


you’ll always be, home sweet home to me

by klainelynch



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (I'm as surprised as you that her music found its way in but trust me it works), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Comforting Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is bad at dancing, Dolly Parton - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, but Aziraphale likes everything about Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainelynch/pseuds/klainelynch
Summary: It was their last night in the bookshop, and Aziraphale hadn’t expected to be this sad.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	you’ll always be, home sweet home to me

The final boxes were packed and ready to be shipped tomorrow morning. They had considered miracling the entire move, but that would have been the biggest miracle drain since the Apocalypse, and they were still exercising a healthy dose of caution just in case their former sides decided to tamper with their miracling. The shop and everything on the business side was staying, but everything for daily life was going to the cottage. It was their last night in the bookshop, and Aziraphale hadn’t expected to be this sad. He was still going to leave the shop open for a few months every year, and he could pop back whenever he felt like it...but it was the end of something he had worked so hard to build. Not for Heaven. For him.

He traced his fingers alongside the bookcase by the stairs. No one had ever figured out his system for sorting books, and that was quite by design. Unfound books were unsold books. This section was reserved for authors that Aziraphale had met and liked (the smaller section for authors he had met and did not like was near the front door). Aziraphale grabbed one at random and smiled when he saw the author. Flipping through a Shakespeare folio often took his mind off any worries. He started to make his way toward his couch, but then remembered that they had already put it in the removal van. That was fine. It was just as easy to read on the steps. Aziraphale started to sit down, but remembered the last time he had sat on these steps—after two angels had knocked on the door and told him that Heaven was rewarding him, and he should walk away from this shop before it had even begun, and how close they came to taking away something that he had made for himself and no one else. It was enough. He put his face in his hands and felt his breathing pulse with his tears.

The jingle of the door downstairs told him that Crowley was back. They had originally planned to go out somewhere special for their last night in London, but Aziraphale had panicked and insisted on staying in the shop. Crowley had wanted to get the food delivered so Aziraphale didn’t have to be by himself, but Aziraphale had asked for a few minutes alone with the world he had built on his own. Maybe Crowley had been right; when he made his way inside, he found Aziraphale sitting on the bottom step with his hands covering his face.

“C’mon, angel,” he said softly. “What’re these tears for? Everything’s alright.”

Aziraphale gulped and allowed Crowley to wrap his arms around him. “I know, that’s what makes me so upset. I’m glad we’re starting something new together, really I am, but this has been 200 years of my life, Crowley. Why did I think it would be so easy to walk away?” He took the handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose before continuing. “And London has been your home too, but I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that you’re stuck here taking care of me again, and I’m so sorry that I’ve spoiled our last night here.”

He might have said more, but Crowley took his face and gently kissed him. “I always want to take care of you. I know you know that, but I don’t mind reminding you. It’s ok to feel sad over this. It will be ok to be sad even when we’re happy in South Downs.” He kissed Aziraphale again, and this time, didn’t pull his lips away when he was done. “We don’t have to do this,” he murmured. “Say the word, and we’ll make our new life here.”

Aziraphale shook his head and kissed Crowley again and again. Their dinner would have been cold by the time they finally got to it if either had expected it to be. As they ate, Crowley took on Aziraphale’s role of steering the conversation, and Aziraphale was grateful. Crowley seemed to remember the funniest stories that Aziraphale had forgotten about the bookshop. It hadn’t seemed like, at the time, that Crowley had been paying that much attention, though Aziraphale suspected he had often underestimated how much Crowley had been paying attention when it came to Aziraphale.

Dinner turned into drinks, and drinks tried to turn into dancing, only Crowley was out of sorts because Aziraphale had already packed his record player in the removal van.

“How was I supposed to know you’d want it on our last night?” he asked as he poured himself another glass of wine.

Rolling his eyes, Crowley started rummaging through one of the four boxes marked _kitchen_. “It won’t be in there!” Aziraphale tried to say, but Crowley waved a hand to ignore him.

“You know what I never understood, angel,” he said, “is why you had things for cooking when you always preferred someone else to cook for you.” Aziraphale started to answer that he had dreams of learning to cook, and maybe now was the perfect time to learn, but Crowley cut him off. “Doesn’t matter, now at least we’ll have a way to listen to music.”

Without even giving Aziraphale a chance to ask, Crowley was playing some pop song on his phone and propping it up against the lid of a small bowl on the table. The song’s quality wasn’t great, but they could hear it well enough. 

“Can’t you just turn up the volume?” Aziraphale asked.

“Don’t be silly—phone speakers aren’t meant to be loud enough to be heard without buying an extra piece of equipment. I had a hand in that one,” Crowley smiled. He swiped through his phone and changed the song. The twang of the singer’s accent threw Aziraphale almost as Crowley’s wild dance moves. He laughed, and could tell that this was exactly the reaction that Crowley had been working toward.

“What, never seen a demon dance to a little Dolly Parton?” he asked. He skipped around the room—actually skipped!—and moved his arms in ways that only technically qualified as dancing because there was music present. Aziraphale didn’t realize that Crowley was grabbing him until he was pulled into what he had heard Americans in the South call a “do-si-do.” They twirled around the empty shop, and Aziraphale was glad it was empty for their moving day because it meant they could have this moment.

They weren’t using major magic, but it didn’t take much to influence a shuffled playlist to a certain song. The music slowed; Aziraphale grabbed Crowley and pulled him close. “My turn to choose the dance,” he said.

 _If I should stay, I would only be in your way_ , the makeshift speaker crackled.

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting him lead. Aziraphale had never learned how to dance like this, had never _wanted_ to dance like this with anyone else. Crowley didn’t seem to mind that Aziraphale was just rocking them back and forth. He kept rubbing his thumb against the back of Aziraphale’s fist, and every so often, would sneak a kiss onto Aziraphale’s neck.

“Her Library was one of the last blessings I did on your behalf,” Aziraphale heard him mutter. “Your people were worried about poverty in Appalachia, so I found someone who looked completely vain but had a good heart and wanted to give back to her community. She already had the idea to give away books to kids; it was just about tweaking the circumstances to make her famous and rich enough so she could make it happen. And then, of course, convincing my people that her fame would lead to other women wanting obscene amounts of plastic surgery.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair and kissed his forehead. He was aware that they had gotten off-beat, even in their simple swaying. Neither wanted to stop long enough to fix it. They would probably return to more ridiculous dancing when this song was over, and Aziraphale felt utterly, wonderfully at peace because of all of these things and more. The move would be hard, yes, but it was the right time, and Crowley would be there, making him laugh. Bringing him dinner. Dancing like a fool because he knew it would make Aziraphale dance like one too.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I start this fic with the goal of writing a PSA about Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library? No. Am I proud as a Tennessean that that’s what this fic became? 100%  
> I imagine that the first Dolly song is “9 to 5,” the second song is “I Will Always Love You” (which was of course covered beautifully by Whitney Houston but written by Parton), and the title is from “Rocky Top,” which is the unofficial fight song of my alma mater and NOT by Parton, but she has a fantastic cover of it.  
> Comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [klainelynch](https://klainelynch.tumblr.com/)


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